


worlds apart (we were the same)

by bisexual-killian-jones (aelover867)



Series: Captain Guyliner and the Savior [13]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, birthday fic, like hella angst, modern runaway royal and confused commoner, neither emma nor killian die, so don't worry about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 11:41:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5126219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aelover867/pseuds/bisexual-killian-jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The country of Sauveur is in pieces, thanks to the uprising of the rebels. Princess Emma has escaped the castle after her parents' murders and comes across Killian Jones, a nurse who slowly pieces her back together. Rated M for violence (the violence isn't too graphic) and major character death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	worlds apart (we were the same)

**Author's Note:**

> this is another birthday fic, but for the lovely piratesails on Tumblr. this has become a 22,000 word monster, so i hope y'all enjoy. title from "angel" by theory of a deadman.

_Run._

_Run._

_Run._

Her side was on fire, a stabbing pain radiating through her. It probably didn’t help that she indeed had been stabbed, but Emma continued to run. Her bare feet smacking against the wet pavement of the streets of the country her family ruled.

 _Had ruled_.

She tried to hold back the sob she felt building in her throat, not wanting to alarm the citizens who resided in the homes around her. Emma had to remain quiet, in case there were other rebels who were looking to kill the princess who had escaped the massacre at the castle. She tried to refuse the memories from bubbling to the surface, the ones that held what she had witnessed at the castle, the place that was home and where she felt safest.

But not anymore.

 _They were gone_.

Everyone was gone. She had seen the blood- _so much blood_ -and she herself had almost become a victim of the uprising, but Graham had saved her and had yelled at her to run. Emma did not know where he was now or if he was still even alive. But she remembered the look in the castle guard’s eyes when he pulled the rebel off of her, stabbing him quickly in the back and throwing him away from Emma as her back remained pressed tightly against the wall. And that’s when he yelled for her to run, to get as far away from the castle as she could and that he would try to find her.

She had run out the secret door that she had used to sneak out and she ran through the forest that surrounded the castle grounds. Barefoot and bleeding, Emma ran through that forest, tripping over fallen branches and twigs impaling her feet. She eventually found her way out into the city, which was where she was running now.

(Always running.)

The rain continued to pound down on her and she couldn’t help but gasp out a sob, clapping a hand over her mouth to silence the sound. They were all dead and she was alone in the world, surrounded by people who wanted to kill her because of her royal status. She knew that the rebels had been gaining traction, spouting lies to get others onto their side, but she never thought-

She never thought that they would infiltrate the castle and murder her family.

Emma kept a hand pressed tightly against the gaping wound in her stomach, hoping to whatever God there was that she wouldn’t die running. But it was silly. She knew there wasn’t a God looking over her. Hearing her parents scream as they were murdered killed that childish thought.

She heard a clamor on the opposite side of the row of homes, loud cheering over the fall of the Royal Family. Her heart broke again and again because they would come looking for her. They would know that Crown Princess Emma had not died in the castle, unlike her parents and the guards and any worker who was caught in the crossfire. She would need to find a way out of the country, find a way to escape without being caught and murdered. She could not attempt to retake the throne, knowing that another uprising would be just around the corner.

She needed to get out of the country for the sake of her own life.

Her feet were aching and Emma wanted to just stop running, to give her feet a rest for only just a moment before she ran as fast as she could to the border. There, she would worry about tending to her injuries, but _she just had to get out_ -

Suddenly, Emma tripped over her own tired feet and fell onto the ground, the cheering of the rebels getting louder as they begin to parade around the city. She heard a _pop_ come from her right ankle and Emma knew that she was done for, yelling in pain into the rainy night. She could not run any longer and the rebels were _coming_ and they would see that the princess who was supposedly dead was lying at their feet and _she was dead_ -

“Miss,” She heard a man’s voice call to her and at least her death was coming sooner rather than later and she’d be reunited with her parents. “Miss, are you alright?”

Emma turned her head to look behind her, seeing a man with hair black as a raven in dark red scrubs. (Oh lucky her, to be found by a _doctor_.)

“I-I’m sorry. I must’ve hurt my ankle while running,” Emma explained, not knowing why she was spilling her guts out to this stranger. “I’ll just be on my way.”

“No, no, no, come with me. I’ll look at your ankle. The rebels are coming and I don’t know what they’ll do when they find a helpless woman on the side of the road,” The man spoke, hurrying over to Emma and drawing her up into his arms.

His arms held her tightly as the man jogged up his front porch steps and swung his door open. Emma tried to ignore how it felt to be held by a man, especially because he was a stranger and he may be a part of the rebel army, but he felt strong and safe, as if he would protect her.

Not two minutes after meeting this man, Emma felt as though this man was meant to cross her path.

Once the man closed the door behind him, he hurried into the main living area, a long room that encompassed the kitchen, the dining area, and a sitting area with a small television. He rushed over to the couch and placed Emma there, murmuring that he’d be back in a moment. Her hand went immediately back to holding her stomach wound, which seemed to have resumed bleeding when she tripped. The pain radiated throughout her entire body, starting with her ankle and moving through her limbs. Emma felt as though she would faint from the sheer pain she was in.

“I just had to grab my kit from my bedroom,” The man told her, sitting down on the coffee table in front of her. He noticed how Emma was holding her side and was beginning wobble where she sat. “Miss, are you hurt elsewhere?”

Emma nodded slowly, closing her eyes and sitting back against the couch as she slowly removed her hand from her side. She heard the man gasp and murmur curses under his breath, shifting her to lie down on the couch.

“Miss, stay with me, alright? Listen to my voice,” The man spoke urgently and his voice was beginning to fade as Emma began to fall down the rabbit hole of her mind. “Don’t fall asleep. You need to stay with me.”

Emma tried to respond back, but her throat grew heavy and then she was gone.

<> 

She woke up from the pain.

It wasn’t necessarily surprising, knowing what Emma had gone through before she passed out. But it still alarmed her, feeling pain radiating throughout her entire body. It was the worst in her ankle and her stomach, going up through her chest where there had been another deep cut. Her physical injuries were damaging, but her psychological trauma was far worse.

Her parents were dead.

She was being hunted down.

And she was now in a random man’s house, who had startlingly blue eyes from what she could recall.

Her eyes slowly cracked open and she stared up at the ceiling, looking at the cracks and wondered if that was what her heart looked like presently. She wanted to move and just as she even willed her body to sit up, pain lanced through her and she whined.

“Hey, hey, hey,” The man’s voice spoke and he was suddenly in her vision and-

“You really shouldn’t move much, lass. It’ll possibly cause more damage,” The man continued on, not even fazed by the fact that Emma found him _incredibly_ attractive.

( _Not the fucking right time, Emma_.)

Emma licked her lips and found that her mouth was dry, thirsty from her body beginning to heal itself and from the time spent running (minutes? Hours? She did not know). Immediately, the man held out a glass of water with a straw for her. She stared at it hesitantly, looking between the man and the glass of water. Even though she was no longer a royal, she remembered what her mother and father had taught her.

 _Don’t accept any beverage if you don’t know where it came from_.

The man smirked, as if he knew what was going through her mind, and sipped from the water in the glass, using the rim of the glass instead of the straw. “See? It’s not poisoned or drugged.”

Emma would’ve nodded if she was positive it wouldn’t hurt, but she wasn’t going to take the chance. When the man brought the straw back toward her, Emma slurped gratefully on the water. The dryness began to fade away with each eager gulp of water and she sighed as she plopped back onto the pillow under her head.

“Thank you,” Emma whispered, her voice cracking.

“It’s not a problem,” The man replied, placing the glass beside him on the coffee table. He perched his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, looking Emma straight in the eyes. “I must say, this wasn’t quite how I was envisioning my few days off.”

Emma sighed and went to move again, saying, “I-I’m sorry. I should be leaving now anyways.”

“No, no, no, you really shouldn’t be moving, love,” The man spoke as Emma slowly ( _painfully_ ) sat up on the couch, letting out a pained sigh as she sat up and reclined back against the couch. “I mean that. Your ankle has been sprained and you’re lucky that stab wound wasn’t an inch up or down because you would be experiencing sepsis and all kinds of things that aren’t very enjoyable. Adding that both the stab wound and the cut to your chest needed stitches and if you move too much, you could damage the stitching. You really need to rest.”

“I have to get out of here and I really cannot stay any longer-”

“Your Royal Highness, _please_.”

Emma gulped as she looked at the man in front of her, who was raking his hand through his floppy hair. He knew who she was. He could’ve alerted the rebels while she was unconscious. She needed to leave _now_ before they came and she was dead and _why did she have to stop_ -

“Yes, I know who you are. I get the newspaper and I have TV and the internet so of course I know who you are,” The man continued, running a hand over his stubble. “And I know that it is best that you stay here. The rebels know that you escaped and they are hunting for you. You _must stay put_. For your own safety.”

Emma shut her eyes because this was reinforcing the fact that it was all real, that it wasn’t some horrid dream. She was being hunted like a goddamn animal and she was stuck in this man’s house. “How long was I asleep?”

“A few hours. Maybe five at the most,” The man responded, nodding to the slightly lighter dark of the window beside the kitchen.

“Are they all dead?” Emma whispered out, forcing herself to look into the man’s eyes. “Are my parents dead?”

She noticed how the man’s throat bobbed with a gulp and with much hesitance, he nodded. “I’m afraid so, Your Royal Highness. That’s all the news networks are reporting. It appears that the rebels set fire to the castle, roughly around the time you happened across my porch. If anybody had survived it initially…”

Emma shut her eyes again and her chin began to quiver. She had known they were all dead-had seen and heard the destruction first hand-but deep down, Emma wanted to believe that her parents had made it out alive. That maybe Graham and some of the staff had gotten out. But it appeared as though that had been a pipe dream.

She was completely and utterly alone.

“What’s your name, sir?” Emma willed herself to ask, for he was her savior.

The man cleared his throat. “Killian Jones, milady.”

“Killian, could you help me lay back down please?” Emma spoke quietly, not trusting her voice not to break if she spoke any louder.

“Of course, Your Royal Highness,” Killian replied immediately and he slowly helped Emma lay back down on the couch, fluffing the pillow beneath her and pulling up the blanket Emma hadn’t noticed that was across her already. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No,” Emma replied, her voice cracking as she closed her eyes again. “No, there’s nothing you can do to help me. And Killian?”

“Hmm?” He responded as he sat up from the coffee table.

“I don’t think ‘Your Royal Highness’ fits anymore,” Emma murmured and turned her head to the side to somehow find sleep in the nightmare that her life had become.

<> 

And Emma didn’t speak for the next three days.

Whenever Killian asked if she needed anything, Emma would merely nod or shake her head. But no matter how closed-off she was, Killian was by her side. He’d called into the hospital and explained that he was sick and that he would need a few days off and that it just must’ve been something he caught while working.

He barely knew her and he was already remaining by her side, as if it was where he belonged.

He tended to her wounds, making sure they weren’t growing infected and that they were healing as they should. He made sure to give her water whenever she was low and he made sure she ate, even though she didn’t want to. He helped her get to the bathroom and made sure to wait outside to help her when she got out.

But after three days, she was beginning to get a little smelly.

It didn’t exactly help that the dirt from the forest and from the streets remained on her feet and hand and that there was dried blood from her wounds. But Emma knew that the time had come where she needed to do something about her stench.

So when Killian came padding out of his bedroom on yet another ‘sick’ day, Emma finally spoke up.

“Killian?”

And he nearly jumped through the ceiling at the sudden sound of her voice. His head turned to face Emma, who was slowly trying to sit up on the couch. He hurried over to her, helping her turn and recline her back against the back of the couch.

“Yes, Your Roy-Emma?” Killian quickly caught himself and Emma was thankful. She did not need to be reminded of the life she had lost.

(Her dreams reminded her enough.)

“I think I need to bathe,” Emma told him and she wanted to remember how the tips of his ears turned a bright red.

“Well, uh, I must say that you can’t submerge your stitches and I don’t think your ankle is strong enough to walk on quite yet,” Killian explained, itching behind his ear.

“Oh…well, alright,” Emma said, deflated. She just wanted to wash away the dirt and grime and memories of the past few days. She felt as if she could just bathe, she could wash away her parents’ deaths.

But there was one way for her to clean herself, even if it wasn’t technically princess-like by most standards.

(But no longer a princess she was.)

“Well, could you possibly do it?” Emma asked quietly, slightly embarrassed by the suggestion.

Killian’s eyes widened. “Uh-well-I suppose I could-”

Emma began to shake her head because it was a stupid suggestion anyways and how could she expect a man she hardly knew to help her bathe? Even though he had tended to her every need since she arrived on his doorstep, it seemed like it may have been a step too far. “It was a stupid idea. I’ll just try to sleep or something-”

“No, I’ll do it, Emma,” Killian spoke firmly and Emma’s heart lightened. “Would you like one now?”

Emma nodded slowly. “Yes, please.”

Killian nodded in response and he held his hands out to Emma, helping her off of the couch. She had noticed within the past few days that whenever they touched, no matter how miniscule it was, electricity flowed through her arms and settled in her heart, sending it into a pounding beat. She barely knew the man and this was the worst period of her life, but she couldn’t stop her body from reacting in his presence. It seemed as though the lack of sleep was causing her to be unable to stop herself from reacting in such a way.

He held onto her hand as he guided her to the bathroom, just off the front door, and turned on the water in the claw-foot bathtub. He turned away as Emma began to strip off her now-ruined dress (which was unfortunate, as it had been one of her favorites) and settled into the warm and steadily rising water. She brought her legs up to her front and wrapped her arms around them as she sat up straight to keep the stitches from bunching on her stomach.

“You know, you don’t have to be too much of a gentleman,” Emma stated and instantly realized how that had sounded. She quickly continued, “I’m sure you’ve seen worse at your work and you _did_ have to stitch my stomach while I was in a dress. I’m not all that innocent, Killian.”

She heard him chuckle from behind her as he grabbed a washcloth from underneath the sink, a plastic cup from the counter beside the sink, and body soap and shampoo from his over-the-showerhead caddy. He turned the faucet off, the water just sitting at Emma’s hips. “Well, I would still prefer to be a gentleman. You are a princess and I am a lowly commoner; I shouldn’t see you nude in any situation.”

‘Princess’ stung Emma like a fucking wasp straight to the heart. She perched her head on top of her knees and stared at the tile wall that decorated the bathroom. Three days ago, she was a princess with a future worth looking forward to. Now though? Emma didn’t know who she was. Her identity was wrapped up in being royalty and becoming queen one day-someday _soon_. But now? That was all gone and Emma was _nobody_ -

“I’m sorry. It’s difficult to suddenly change how I view you,” Killian murmured as he wet the cloth in the water behind Emma. “It was basically drilled into my head when I was young and in the Navy.”

“You were in the Navy?” Emma murmured, twisting her head to place her cheek against her knees.

“Aye. Honorably discharged five years ago when I was twenty-three,” Killian replied as he began to pour water over Emma’s back. “Followed my older brother’s footsteps, since I was like his own little puppy.”

Emma laughed for the first time since her parents’ death, under her breath. “I always wanted a little sibling, someone to shape into my own form and do my chores.”

“Royalty did chores?”

“Oh yes. My parents made sure I never believed that I was more important than the staff,” Emma said wistfully, closing her eyes after Killian gently tapped her head, telling her that he was about to pour water over her. She sputtered the stray water from her mouth and ran her hand over her face to reopen her eyes. She wanted to change the subject back to Killian, as the thought of her parents broke her heart. “Did your older brother do that to you?”

“No. He was nearly ten years older than me, so by the time I got to that age, he was already out of the house and in the Navy,” Killian explained, beginning to run the cloth over Emma’s back and shoulders. “He made a career out of being in the Navy, so he was still in when I enlisted at eighteen.”

Emma made note of how Killian spoke of his brother in past tense, but she knew not to ask him about it. Loss was not what Emma wanted to talk about at the moment, hers still so fresh in her mind and making her unable to sleep because the screams and images of that night were always there to haunt her.

So all Emma did was relax as Killian rubbed the loofah all over her back and sides, cleaning away the filth that had built up on her within the past few days since she had been in hiding. Killian allowed Emma to sit in silence, and for that she was thankful. She had a feeling that any sort of conversation would somehow lead back to the life she lost and Emma couldn’t bear talking about it in excess.

(Even though her thoughts were driving her mad.)

“You have a very nice home,” Emma murmured when her thoughts grew to be too much for her to handle in the silence of the bathroom, her hair rinsed of shampoo and Killian standing at the front of the tub to drain it.

“Thank you,” Killian responded quietly and Emma realized that there must’ve been a history in this home, as it seemed more of a family home than somewhere for a person to live by themselves.

Emma looked intently at the man who had been helping her for the past three days as he held out a hand to help her stand in the tub, his head completely turned away as to give her privacy. She grew more and more curious about the man in front of her, about what went through that mind of his and what history those blue eyes have seen.

But she knew she could not stay forever, so Emma kept her mouth shut, taking the hand that was offered to her and slowly standing in the tub. She wanted to learn everything she could about this man, but it was only a matter of time before she had to leave, to escape the country and the death sentence hanging over her head.

And Emma forced herself to promise herself that when she did leave, she would not be haunted by those ever-seeing blue eyes and the messiness of his raven black hair.

(But Emma knew she was lying to herself.)

<> 

The next day, Killian returned to work, swearing to Emma that he would return in the evening. As soon as he left, Emma stood from the couch, wincing at the pulling of her stitches on her stomach. She knew she needed to leave, before he was able to alert the rebels to her location. She didn’t think he would do such a thing, having been loyal to the royal family during his time in the Navy, but Emma couldn’t risk it.

But as soon as she prepared herself for departure, she realized that she did not having any sort of disguise. Killian had given her old clothes to wear, but she had no shoes and her hair was still hanging down her back as it had those days ago when she ran for her life. Emma knew that in order to get out of the country, she’d need some sort of disguise.

She’d have to dye her hair. Maybe get glasses or colored contacts. A hoodie to hide her face. And shoes. She needed shoes. She wasn’t going to try to get out of the country with nothing on her feet, as that would bring a lot of unneeded attention to herself.

Emma sighed as she tucked her hair behind her ear, slowly sitting back down on the couch that had become her home. She would leave another time, when she had everything she needed. She would leave the country that betrayed her and she would not look back.

<> 

“ _Jesus fucking Christ_ , ow!” Emma hissed out, her hand clenching on the arm rest of the couch.

“I told you this would hurt, now stop moving,” Killian murmured, leaning over Emma’s stomach as he gently and slowly cut at the stitches. “And keep it down. Rebels are patrolling the streets for any sign of uprising against _them_.”

“This is like a goddamn dystopian book- _ow_ god dammit!” Emma grunted out, her voice tight and low as Killian plucked the strings embedded in her skin.

“Almost done,” Killian spoke as his tongue stuck out in concentration and the fucking thoughts that ran through Emma’s head at the sight were borderline _obscene_ \- “There. All done with those. Time for your chest, love.”

“Can we take a break? That fucking hurt,” Emma grumbled as she pulled the shirt back over her stomach and Killian stood from his kneeling position on the floor (and yes, Emma noticed how his dark head of hair looked when he knelt between her knees to pluck the stitches from her stomach and that image was going to be stuck in her head for _ages_ -).

“Did you curse this much in the castle?” Killian asked curiously as he cleaned up the dirty stitches from the coffee table.

“Oh yes. If my mother caught me, I was in deep shit,” Emma replied and for the first time in the week since their deaths, speaking of her mother didn’t sting nearly as much as it did before. The wound was still there, gaping and painful, but it was beginning to slowly heal itself, just as her own physical wounds were.

“Same with my older brother, Liam. He thought it wasn’t proper to curse, especially in front of women,” Killian replied with a smile as he dumped the stitchings into his trash can in the kitchen. He walked back over to Emma with that wide smile on his face and Emma’s heart thumped and she was _screwed_ \- “He was a bit traditional. Never question authority, always walk on the outside when walking with a lady, all of that chivalrous stuff.”

Emma raised her eyebrows. “Did he also think that a woman’s place was in the kitchen?”

“Oh hell no,” Killian snorted as he sat onto the coffee table in front of Emma. “My mother worked two jobs when we grew up. His chivalrous thoughts were more of a ‘they deserve it after putting up with men on a daily basis’ than a ‘women can’t handle themselves so we must help them.’”

“Nice to know that you clearly learned his ways,” Emma told Killian and he scratched at his neck, his eyes on the floor.

“Yeah well, my mother drove that into our heads and Liam was quite the influence on me when she wasn’t home,” Killian replied, looking up at Emma and holding the small scissors in his hands. “Which was quite often, to be honest.”

Emma’s face softened as she leaned over a little bit, as to not hurt her already sensitive scar. “She worked a lot?”

Killian nodded. “She had to work two jobs to afford to take care of two boys, especially since one was at the age where he ate everything in the damn house.”

Emma laughed under her breath. “And your father?”

“Now that’s a story for another time,” Killian replied quickly, scooting forward and motioning for Emma to scoot back. “Now, time to take out those stitches. Off with the shirt.”

And if the situation had been any different, Emma would’ve blushed. But she knew that Killian had to access her chest easily to remove the stitches and that it had nothing to do with _her_. Emma quickly swung the loose shirt off and dropped it onto the seat beside her on the couch. Killian stood and grabbed a chair from the small dining room table in between the kitchen and the sitting area and dragged it over to beside the couch, sitting down in it to face toward Emma as she relaxed back into the couch.

“It’s going to hurt again,” Killian murmured as he began to lean over her chest, eyeing the stitches ( _maybe_ ).

Emma took a deep breath and tried not to think about his close proximity to her breasts and how he could completely see how she was breathing heavily. “I’m good.”

Killian leaned over and began cutting at the tight stitches, Emma’s hands tightened into fists on the couch to keep her mind off the pain. Or to keep her from looking into his blue eyes and noticing the flecks of gray in them and the pain she noticed every time he let his guard down-

Emma mentally shook herself, biting down on her tongue as the stitches tugged with each cut. She was leaving as soon as she could. She just needed to gather a few things and then she would be gone. She couldn’t allow herself to fall into puppy love with the man who took her in and saved her from the rebels, who she was sure would never turn her over to them and would rather die if faced with the choice.

But Emma had to leave, no matter what. She couldn’t take the chance that the rebels would find her, or would hurt Killian in order to get to her if they ever discovered where she was.

She just didn’t want anybody else to get killed because of royal blood.

(Even if her heart was beginning to break with the thought of leaving Killian behind.)

<> 

_It was the screaming that pulled her from her sleep._

_It was high-pitched and bloodcurdling, a kind of scream Emma never wanted to hear again._

_She hurried out of her bedroom, still in the dress she wore from earlier that day when she decided to take a nap in her bedroom. She hurried through the hallways and down the steps, where the screams grew louder. She could hear her parents, crying and yelling and begging for mercy. Emma didn’t know what she would see when she turned the corner at the bottom of the steps._

_And what she saw would change her forever._

_Blood spread over the white marble flooring and the bodies of her parents lying on the ground, stabbed to death by the men standing beside their bodies. Emma met their stares and ran, ran as fast as she could because she knew that the discontented whispers had finally come to fruition._

_She knew the rebels were there to kill her and her entire family._

_But before Emma could reach the back door, where she used to sneak out-before the whispers had grown to shouts-to escape her royal life, a rebel ran after her and grabbed her arm, throwing her against the nearby wall and pressing his knife to her neck._

_“Well here’s the pretty little princess,” He sneered, his foul breath wafting over Emma. His knife moved to her chest, cutting at her bare skin deeply. She bit down on her lip to keep from shouting in pain, not wanting to tempt him into anything worse. “You know, it’s a damn shame it had to come to this. If I had my way, I would rather be doing something else with our time, princess.”_

_Emma gulped and she fucking knew how to throw him off of her because her parents had made sure she had training in all kinds of self-defense, but yet she was frozen in place. She wanted to scream for the castle guards, but as the screams continued throughout the castle, she was sure that they would be too dead to help her._

_The man bent his head down, deeply inhaling Emma’s perfume, and a shiver shot down her spine because she was scared. For the first time in her life, Emma was truly afraid of what would happen to her. She had lived in a life of comfort and wealth and now it was only a matter of time before she was murdered for the rebel’s uprising._

_“It really is too bad, princess. But, I think it is time you join your parents,” The man spoke into her ear as he took his knife from Emma’s chest and drove it into her stomach._

“Emma, _Emma_ , wake up!” Killian’s voice drifted into her ears, but she could not. She was frozen again, much like she had been that night two weeks ago. “Emma, you’re safe. It’s just a dream. Come back to me, love.”

Emma finally woke up, no longer stuck in her dream but still stuck in her memories, and looked into Killian’s eyes as she began crying. “They’re gone. They’re all gone.”

“I know, I know. But you’re still here and you’re safe,” Killian replied earnestly, taking her into his arms and stroking her hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re okay. You’re safe, Emma.”

And Emma sobbed into his shoulder, her arms tight around his back. She wanted to be free of this nightmare she was living. The army was moving in to try to tame the rebels, but Emma didn’t care. She needed to get out of the country. Emma wanted to leave this country in her fucking dust and bring Killian along-

Her hands tightened around his shirt as Emma tried to force herself into forgetting about Killian when she ultimately had to leave. He couldn’t come along. He had his own life here and they had only known each other for only _two weeks_. He had no reason to follow her and Emma had no reason to bring him along with her when she ran.

But no matter how often Emma thought about leaving, Killian just always seemed to be with her. And no matter how hard Emma tried to ignore that, he would continuously come back.

(He always came back.)

“I didn’t think you were having nightmares,” Killian murmured as they continued to hold each other.

“I would have to sleep to have nightmares, Killian,” Emma responded truthfully, rubbing at her red and tired eyes. “I’ve been just taking a lot of naps and that seems to work.”

She felt Killian nod against her. “I understand. You’re safe, Emma. I’ve got you.”

“Can you…could you stay?” Emma whispered so quietly that she wasn’t sure Killian even heard her.

“Of course,” Killian replied just as quietly.

Emma scooted to the back of the large couch as Killian laid down beside her. He placed his arm around her and Emma laid her head on his shoulder, feeling at peace for the first time in the past two weeks. They laid there silently, only the sounds of their breathing filling their ears. He pressed a gentle kiss onto the crown of Emma’s head and her eyes slowly shut, knowing that it was only a matter of time before she left.

Tomorrow. She would gather the things tomorrow and she would leave and she would never see those blue eyes again.

(She tried to ignore the twisting in her heart at the thought.)

<> 

Emma tugged the hat over her head, making sure all of her long hair, tied up in a high bun, was safely hidden under the red beanie. As the weather was growing colder, Emma knew that she wouldn’t stand out. But if she tripped over the slightly too big old shoes she found in the hall closet, it would bring too much attention to herself.

So Emma walked slowly, but surely through the neighborhood Killian resided in. He had left for his shift at the pediatrician’s office, where he was a nurse, at nearly seven that morning. It was now nearing noon and Emma just had to find the things she needed in order to leave. She hunched her shoulders, making herself look smaller, and pushed up at the fake glasses she had found in that hall closet. She hoped that this disguise, combined with the overly large sweatshirt she was wearing that she had found in the same closet, would hide her enough where she wouldn’t be looked at twice.

Especially since she would have to break a law or two to get what she needed.

She took a deep breath as she stepped into a small grocery store, keeping her head straight ahead as she looked around the store. The crowd was slightly heavy, many people shopping on their lunch hour. It made Emma afraid that someone would recognize her, but she also knew that the large crowd would help her sneak in and out without anyone looking twice at her.

She walked determinedly toward the hair care aisle, quickly finding the hair dyes. She didn’t look at the dyes for too long, quickly choosing an auburn red. She took a deep breath and looked in her periphery, noticing that nobody else was in the aisle, other than an elderly woman at the very opposite end. Emma hastily stuffed the box into her large pocket of the sweatshirt and walked back out of the aisle, finding her way toward the pharmacy.

It took her almost no time to successfully snag a pair of black reading glasses (on the lowest prescription because she didn’t need to go blind after disguising herself) and Emma quickly left the store, leaving before anybody could become suspicious. She held her things tightly in her hands in the large pocket of the sweatshirt as she swiftly walked the streets back the way she came.

Even though she finally had what she needed for a disguise, Emma found that she did not want to leave the country. She knew she had to for her own safety, but…when she thought of leaving, she remembered the warmth she experienced in Killian’s company. It was stupid and silly, but after the past two weeks with him constantly around her, Emma was used to his presence. She hadn’t fallen in love with the man-oh no, that would be far too soon and would make things far too complicated-but she found that she did not want to be without him.

Emma sighed because _dammit_ everything was complicated. She had to get out. She knew that. But she still had to go and bond with the man that had kept her safe these past two weeks and had undoubtedly saved her life. He had to worm his way into this broken heart of hers and begin mending it the very same day it had shattered. Emma may have been crazy, but a small part of her hoped that he felt the same way about her.

Oh what a mess her life had become.

Emma continued walking down the street, navigating her way back to Killian’s home and weaving past fellow citizens. She had to figure out the proper time to leave. With the army fighting with the rebels throughout the country, she had to figure out a path that would not encounter the fighting. And if she didn’t leave before the army came to the capital, Emma would be stuck for much longer. She would need to start looking at the reports coming from all over the country, describing the fighting and where it was located. Seeing as the capital was only roughly twenty miles from the border, she figured that would be her best chance. But the fighting was worse just north of here, so she knew that’d be dangerous. How the hell would she get out-

“Miss?” Emma heard a voice call to her from behind and her heart froze in fear.

 _They’ve found her_.

She didn’t waste another moment, immediately beginning to run through the somewhat crowded streets. The voice continued to call “ _miss_ ” as she ran, weaving through the street blocks to lose whomever had found her. She would not go willingly into the hands of the rebels, as that would mean certain death. She would fight. She would make them pay for what they had done to her and her family.

Emma turned a corner, seeing that Killian’s home was right down the street. She slowed back down to a hasty walk, as she believed that she had lost whomever was calling for her. Her hands tightened around the items in her pocket and she felt at ease for the first time since she left the house. When she returned home, she would watch the news to begin planning her route out of the country. She would hide her things underneath the couch and just hope that Killian did not see them. Emma didn’t think she could face his disappointment if he found her things-

Suddenly, a hand gripped Emma’s arm and tugged her into the alley she had just been passing. She twisted around and began pushing at the man holding her as she was pressed against a brick wall. She pushed and pushed at the man’s chest, trying to get him far enough from her that she could run, but his hands encircled her wrists and he pressed them above her head.

“Emma-”

“Get off of me!” Emma grunted out, her knee hitching up and hitting the man in the groin.

The man pulled away with a loud groan and he held himself, bent nearly in half. And in a pained voice, the man spoke, “Emma, it’s me! It’s me!”

Emma furrowed her eyebrows and gasped, recognizing that brown, curly head of hair. And when his eyes met her, Emma thought she would faint. Graham was alive and he was standing right in front of her. She thought he had died at the castle after saving her life. She had mourned over her parents and everyone in the staff who had been caught in the crossfire. She had mourned over _him_.

“Graham,” Emma whispered as he slowly stood back up, clearly pained.

“It’s nice to see that you remembered some of the things I taught you,” Graham replied, his voice strained.

“I-I thought you were one of the rebels,” Emma told him as he stepped toward her.

“I understand. I suppose I could’ve gone about it in a different way.”

“How’d you know it was me?”

Graham chuckled. “Emma, I’ve seen you in hundreds of different costumes throughout the years. I think I know how to spot you.”

That made her uneasy because what if someone else had recognized her? What if a citizen had seen Princess Emma walking through the streets? What if a rebel soldier had caught sight of her and reported it to the others?

“Don’t worry, it was a decent enough disguise, Your Royal Highness. I don’t know if anybody else recognized you,” Graham stated, clearly seeing her distress.

“I thought you were dead,” Emma spoke quietly and Graham stepped forward again, their toes nearly brushing. “I thought after I left, you had been killed. And then I heard about the fire and I assumed-”

“I know, I know. After I told you to run, I fought the other rebels. Along with the other castle guards who had survived, we killed the ones inside of the castle. But we smelled the fire and we realized those rebels hadn’t come alone, so the rest of us ran,” Graham explained. “We hid in the forest for a few days, then slowly we all came into the city. We parted ways to ensure our safety. I’ve been hiding in a small shelter in an alley for the past week and a half.”

Emma was so overcome by joy that she moved forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug because _she thought she had lost everything_. Graham seemed to be caught off guard at first, but soon, he hugged her back. They stood there, in the dark alley, for what seemed like hours and Emma didn’t want to let go. But Emma knew she had to return back to the house before Killian returned home from work. So Emma begrudgingly let go of Graham, pulling away and pressing her back against the brick wall again.

“Where have you been?” Graham asked under his breath, aware of the people walking by.

“When I came into the city that night, I fell and hurt my ankle and to my luck, I fell in front of a nurse’s house,” Emma explained quietly, eyeing the people passing the alley. “He stitched up my cuts and wrapped up my ankle. I’ve been there ever since.”

“Lucky you,” Graham murmured, sniffling and Emma wanted to bring him with her back to Killian’s home. It was growing too cold for Graham to be sleeping outside with minimal shelter. “Is he nearby?”

Emma nodded. “Just down the road. He’s at work right now at a pediatrician’s office. He’ll be home around five or six.”

“Why were you out?”

Emma sighed and pulled out the hair dye and reading glasses from her pocket. “Trying to gather things to get out of the country.”

Graham sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s a dangerous plan, Emma, and you know it.”

“But what other choice do I have? I need to get out before the rebels find me,” Emma replied sternly, placing the items back into her pocket. “It’s too dangerous to stay here.”

“But there’s fighting all over the country-”

“I know, which is why I need to figure out a route that avoids it. That’s why I haven’t left yet.”

Graham turned his head to look out at the mouth of the alley. “If you leave, I’m coming with you. I swore to protect the royal family and since you are still alive, I’m going with you.”

Emma sighed, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to win that fight against Graham. “Fine. But come with me to his house. Maybe he’ll let you stay with us.”

“I’m fine, Your Royal Highness.”

“No. It’s too cold. You’ll get sick or die out here. Come with me and that’s an order,” Emma spoke sternly, using her princess voice. Graham sighed and begrudgingly followed Emma out of the alley.

They walked together down the street, Emma keeping her head down so no one could recognize her as Princess Emma. They passed laughing children and giggling couples and Emma’s heart twisted at the sounds. Their lives were perfectly normal and happy and Emma’s had fallen apart. She was jealous that they were able to live as they had been before the massacre at the castle.

She wished she could go back to those days and see her parents again.

But that meant never meeting Killian and never knowing those eyes or his past.

They walked up the front steps and Emma stepped into the home, shutting the door behind Graham and kicking off the shoes she had taken from the closet. After releasing her hair from its confines, Emma placed the shoes, fake glasses, and sweatshirt back into the closet and hurried to hide her hair dye and reading glasses under the couch. Graham stood awkwardly in the kitchen, with his hands in his pockets and his eyes scanning the home.

Now they just had to wait for Killian to return home.

And a few hours later, Killian walked through the door, tossing his keys onto the table by the door. When he walked through the large archway that led to the rest of the house, he noticed Emma sitting beside Graham on the couch. Emma stood up quickly and walked over to Killian as he shrugged out of his coat.

“Who is that, Emma?” Killian asked quietly, looking into Emma’s eyes as he draped the coat over the coat rack beside the door.

“Umm, well, that’s Graham,” Emma replied and Killian glanced at him over her shoulder.

“The guard that got you out?” Emma nodded and Killian continued, “I thought you said he was dead.”

“I thought he was. But I…well I went outside today and we sort of bumped into each other.”

Killian’s eyes widened with fear. “You went outside today? Emma, do you know how dangerous that was?”

“I know, I know, but I borrowed some of your things to disguise myself, so no one recognized me besides him,” Emma explained. “I’m sorry, but I just needed fresh air.”

(Her heart twisted at the lie.)

Killian nodded subtly and took a deep breath, stepping around Emma to walk over to Graham. He held his hand out as Emma turned around to see them meet. “I’m Killian Jones.”

“Graham Humbert,” Graham introduced himself, shaking Killian’s hand firmly. “Emma ordered me to come with her back here, so I’m sorry if I’m impeding.”

“Oh no, no, it’s alright. I understand how Emma can be,” Killian replied, eyeing Emma over his shoulder and she felt a blush rise high on her cheeks. “I’m assuming she ordered you here for another reason as well?”

Graham sighed. “She doesn’t want me to sleep in the cold, as I’ve been hiding in a small shelter in an alley for the past week and a half.”

Killian nodded. “I understand. You can stay here. You’re the reason Emma’s alive, so I’ll make room for you, even though there isn’t much room as it is.”

“Thank you, sir,” Graham said.

Killian turned around to look back at Emma, seeing her with her arms crossed over her chest. “Now, why did you go outside today?”

Emma’s eyes widened and her arms tightened around herself. “I said I needed fresh air.”

“Ah, but you are an open book, love, and I know that isn’t the truth.”

Emma gulped and eyed Graham over Killian’s shoulder. He nodded and Emma decided that she just might as well tell Killian to just get it over with. “I went out to grab some things from the local grocery store. I-I grabbed hair dye and glasses because I need to get out of the country at some point and I can’t do that when I still look like me.”

“You’re fleeing.”

Emma nodded and she really tried to ignore how Killian visibly deflated, his shoulders sagging and his face growing tired. But as quickly as it was there, it was gone and Killian spread a toothless smile across his face. It didn’t look right. It looked sad and forced and Emma wished she didn’t have to hurt him. But she had to in order to keep herself safe.

“Well then, I suppose we shall start making those plans soon then,” Killian spoke, his voice tight and strained.

(Later that night, as Emma and Graham sat on Killian’s bed that Killian had offered them, Graham chuckled under his breath as he pulled off his shoes.

“What’s so funny?” Emma asked, peeling off her socks.

“I can see why you haven’t left yet,” Graham replied, reclining back on the bed. “You’ve got a crush.”

And Emma didn’t try to fight it because she knew deep down that it was true.)

<> 

The next day, the three of them discussed extensively the best plan to get Emma and Graham out of the country. Killian had been following the news quite closely and knew that the safest route was most likely to the east, where the fighting was minimal. However, the border to the east was nearly one hundred miles away, which would take days to reach.

Graham then brought up a conversation he had had with Emma’s parents not too shortly before the uprising at the castle. Her parents had feared the worse from the rebels’ shouts and had told Graham of a man who could forge documents and create a new identity for Emma, if she made it out alive. The three of them looked between one and other and decided that that was the best plan. They would have the man create new identities for Emma and Graham and with the new identities, they could simply fly out of the country.

(Even though Emma’s heart wanted Killian to join them.)

Graham departed the house that night, going out to find the man the King and Queen had told him to trust with Emma’s life. Emma and Killian sat on the couch, reeling in the information they had discussed. Her stomach was churning with the knowledge that she would soon be leaving his side and again, she found that she did not want to leave Killian behind.

It was crazy and silly and stupid, but her mother had always told her to follow her heart.

“Are you alright, Emma?” Killian asked from beside her, his hands clasped tightly within one another.

Emma gulped and nodded, lying to him and to herself. “I’m fine.”

(Emma never did listen to her mother.)

<> 

Emma held the mug of hot chocolate in her hands with the blanket draped over her shoulders, watching the news intently. It looked like the fighting was nearing the capital and it caused a wave of anxiety to crash over Emma. Graham had yet to come back to the house, calling Killian’s home from a phone from who knows where and telling them that it would take time for the papers and passports to be made and that he had found a place to stay near the man, in order to keep an eye on him. She didn’t ask how much it had cost for the man to create their new identities, but Graham had insisted that he had taken care of everything that was needed. His lack of reappearance was unnerving, but Emma was sure he was safe. Graham knew how to take care of himself, so she did not need to worry.

“Penny for your thoughts, love?” Killian asked from the chair beside the couch, blowing on his own hot chocolate.

Emma nibbled on her bottom lip, looking down at the whipped cream Killian had placed on her hot chocolate. He even wordlessly added some cinnamon, even though Emma had mentioned only once that she preferred her hot chocolate with cinnamon and that she would have it on cold winter nights at the castle with her mother and father.

“Just anxious about this whole thing, I suppose,” Emma murmured, her thumb rubbing the handle of the mug. “It’s been a week and there’s still nothing about the identities and Graham’s still gone.”

“Well, I’m guessing it takes longer than just a week to make entirely new identities for a person. Especially for two people,” Killian explained rationally and Emma nodded in understanding. “He’ll be back soon. I’m sure of it.”

Emma sipped on her hot chocolate slowly, the warmness soothing her soul. She pulled away and looked at Killian, seeing that he was laughing into his mug. “What?”

“You’ve got a little bit of something on your nose, love,” Killian replied with that heart-stopping smile.

Emma quickly wiped at her nose, embarrassed by the excess cream that got stuck there as she sipped on her drink. “You’d think I’d learn after twenty-five years to eat the cream first.”

Killian shrugged, holding the mug to his lips to sip. “You don’t have to impress anyone here, so it isn’t a problem.”

Emma gulped subtly and turned back to her mug, pulling her sweater sleeves over her hands. It was yet another piece of clothing Killian had offered her, a beautiful pink cable-knit sweater. She found it slightly curious that he did have women’s clothing just lying around the apartment, knowing that no other women besides herself had been in this house for at least the past three weeks.

“Umm, Killian, if you don’t mind me asking,” Emma began and Killian looked up from his mug expectantly, “why do you have women’s clothing in your house?”

And Emma regretted asking the question because of how Killian’s face shifted from contentment to sadness in a mere moment. She opened her mouth to apologize and to take back her question, but Killian held up his hand as he placed his mug onto the coffee table in front of him.

“They were my wife’s,” Killian stated and Emma’s heart stopped.

 _He was married_?

Emma looked down at Killian’s left hand and noticed that there was no wedding band on his ring finger, which he had clearly noticed. “We aren’t married anymore. She died two years ago.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked,” Emma spoke quietly, looking down at her mug.

“It’s alright, Emma. It’s been two years,” Killian replied and Emma looked back at him, a soft smile on his lips.

“What happened, if you care to share?”

Killian sighed and ran his hand through his hair (which was growing longer with each passing day and was now flopping into his eyes, sending Emma’s heart into a frenzy). “Do you remember that bombing in the market? The beginning of the rebels’ attacks?”

Emma nodded solemnly, her heart hurting for Killian’s pain. She remembered being terrified, but her parents had told her that it was a single incident and that it didn’t mean anything. She remembered standing by her parents as they stated a public apology to the victims’ families. Twenty-five people dead and dozens more injured and all her parents could do was offer their condolences to the families of the fallen.

“She went there that morning, much to my dismay. She had always been an early riser and I wanted her to stay in bed for once,” Killian spoke wistfully. “Then I heard the explosion and the news immediately began reporting about the bombing and I just knew she was gone. And she wasn’t answering her phone, no matter how many times I called. I spent months feeling guilty about it, thinking that I could’ve pleaded with her more and somehow had gotten her to stay.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Emma whispered and Killian’s eyes drifted up to meet hers from where they fell to the floor.

“I know that, but it took me a long time to see that,” Killian replied and he looked around the house, gesturing to it widely. “We bought this place just after I got out of the Navy. Got married a month later, just us two and Liam as our witness. This was going to be the home where we raised our family.”

Emma wiped at the tear that spilled onto her cheek. She wished she could take away his pain, to kill those fucking rebels for taking away someone so important to him. The rebels were after her family, but they had killed so many others. They were guilty of murdering hundreds of people, including Killian’s wife, and Emma felt as though she was the one who had triggered the bombs herself.

“You know the attacks weren’t your fault, Emma,” Killian spoke, as if he was reading her mind.

“They were after my family. Nobody else should’ve died besides us. Everyone else…they should still be alive. You should still have your wife, Killian,” Emma explained, more tears dripping onto her cheeks.

“Emma,” Killian began as he shifted to face her, his elbows on his knees, “I have moved on. Yes, Milah’s death nearly destroyed me and I will always miss her, but I’ve never blamed the royal family for it. Her death was not your doing. It was the rebels and that’s why I have always blamed them. Please don’t blame yourself, Emma.”

“But-”

“Here,” Killian said as he stood from his chair, offering his hand to Emma. “Come with me.”

Emma furrowed her eyebrows as she placed her mug onto the coffee table and took Killian’s hand. He tugged her up from the couch and led her to his bedroom just off the living room, his hand still wrapped around hers. The warmth from his hand settled deep inside Emma’s heart and she knew that she was in deep with this man, whom she would be leaving as soon as she retrieved her new identification.

(But she would not think about the incoming heartbreak. Not tonight. Not even when it was staring her in the face and stealing her breath.)

Killian motioned for Emma to sit on his bed, which she did as he rummaged through his closet. He picked something up from the floor and walked back to Emma, opening what seemed to be a photo album. He sat down beside her and laid the book across her lap. There, on the very first page, Emma saw a picture of a young Killian in his sailor’s uniform with a beautiful brunette wrapped in his arms.

“She was beautiful,” Emma spoke quietly, staring at their wide smiles and thinking about how happy they must’ve been before the rebels came.

“Aye. She was,” Killian replied, turning the page and revealing a picture of their wedding day. He was wearing a pair of relaxed khakis and a white button-down shirt, while Milah wore a simple white knee-length dress. “I’m showing you these because while these were all happy moments, they are in the past. And Milah’s death, even though it was one of the most painful times in my life, it’s in the past. What happened to Milah…I can’t change it. I spent a long time being angry at the rebels and trying to fight them. But it wouldn’t bring her back.”

“When did you stop being angry?”

“The night you crossed my doorstep.”

Emma’s heart stopped and she looked at Killian, seeing that his statement was sincere. “What?”

“I saw you out there, clearly hurt, and I brought you in. And when I saw you out there, I knew who you were. I knew you were Princess Emma of Sauveur. And I knew that by helping you, I could get back at the rebels who killed Milah. But after all of this time, I knew that wasn’t the only thing fueling me,” Killian confessed and Emma gulped back the knot in her throat. “I knew this was giving me the chance to become who I used to be. By helping you, I knew that I would be able to finally get past my anger and rage toward the rebels.”

“Killian-”

“Helping you has helped me live in the present again, Emma. And I cannot be angry at the past anymore because it has led me to you.”

Tears leaked over her cheeks again as Emma shut her eyes, leaning forward to rest her head on Killian’s shoulder. Killian rested his head on hers and his hand ran through her long hair as it draped over her back. Emma wanted to think that what he had just said meant that he had felt the same things toward her as Emma had felt for him, but she couldn’t believe that. Killian had just said that him finding her helped him move past his wife’s death. Emma wouldn’t believe anything more.

(Even if her heart was screaming at her to just take the leap of faith.)

She wanted to say something, but Emma didn’t know what. Her throat was knotted and thick with tears, but she had to say something to him. He needed to know how much his words meant to her and what was going through her mind. But before she could say anything, there was a telltale creaking of the front door opening. They both jumped up from the bed, the photo album forgotten on the bed, and hurried out to the living room. There, Graham was standing with his hair wet from the downpour outside.

“Graham,” Emma simply stated, quickly wiping at her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to meet the Princess of Sauveur,” An unfamiliar voice spoke from the front hallway. A man stepped in beside Graham, holding a cane tightly in front of him. He wore an impeccable pinstriped suit, but it contrasted with his longish hair. He seemed to be a man who was dignified, but the hairs rose on the back of Emma’s neck.

She did not like this man.

“He insisted on meeting you while our papers were being made. And we need your photo for your new passport,” Graham explained, eyeing the man. It appeared that he didn’t trust him either.

“So you’re the man who’s helping us?” Emma asked, looking back to the man. He was short, but he held himself in a manner that intimidated Emma. But her parents had taught her that you never showed your fear, no matter what. So Emma schooled her face to show indifference toward the man.

But it appeared he had seen right through it.

“There’s no need to be afraid of me, Princess,” The man spoke in a Scottish accent, a smile revealing a gold tooth. “I am a friend of you and your family, may God rest their souls. I am here to help.”

“What’s your name, sir?” Emma asked, crossing her arms firmly over her chest.

“People call me Mr. Gold, Your Royal Highness,” He responded, bowing lowly. But Emma got the feeling he was doing this to keep up appearances and a shiver shot down her spine.

She _really_ did not like him.

“And as your friend has said, I am here to take your picture for your passport. Therefore, you need your disguise on,” Mr. Gold continued on, seemingly unaware of Emma’s uneasiness.

“Then I should dye my hair then,” Emma stated, turning to Killian who stood at her side. “Would you be able to help me?”

“Of course,” Killian responded in an even voice, keeping his eyes on Mr. Gold as Emma turned away to grab her hair dye from its place underneath the couch.

Emma walked with Killian into the bathroom, shutting the door behind them as Graham watched over Mr. Gold in the living room. Emma sighed as she moved to the opposite side of the room, sitting down onto the toilet heavily.

“Shi-i-i-it,” Emma breathed out with her head in her hands.

“The feeling’s mutual,” Killian replied back quietly, opening the package in the sink and beginning to put the dye together.

“I don’t like him at all, Killian. There’s something wrong about him,” Emma stated, looking at him at the sink beside her. “He’s creepy and with that bow…something isn’t right.”

“I agree,” Killian spoke, shaking the dye in the bottle to mix it. “No wonder Graham found a place to stay so near him. The man’s a fucking snake. And his crocodile shoes? No one who wears crocodile-skin shoes is up to anything good.”

“Well, it’s too late,” Emma said, sighing and dropping her head into her hands again. “Something’s gonna go wrong, Killian. I know it and you know it and Graham fucking knows it-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Killian said as he kneeled in front of her, gently tilting her head with his finger below her chin. “We’ll figure it out. You two need those IDs to get out and it sounds like he’s going to do what he’s been paid to do. But we’ll keep an eye on him.”

Emma nodded as Killian stood back up. “Now, time to dye your hair.”

Emma sighed again as she sat up. Killian began to squirt the dye all over her hair, spreading it over every strand. She would miss her blonde hair, but she knew that this was needed. With her blonde hair, she would still look like Princess Emma of Sauveur. She needed to become Ruth Swan, who would have auburn hair and black glasses.

It took a half hour for the dye to set after Killian spread the dye throughout her hair, using up the entire bottle on Emma’s long tresses. He piled her hair up on her head to avoid it dripping onto the sweater they had forgotten to take off before beginning the dying. Emma sat on the toilet while Killian leaned against the sink next to her, waiting for the dye to completely set. They sat silently for a long while, straining their ears to see if Graham and Gold were talking. But just as they were quiet, so were Graham and Gold.

“Killian?”

“Hmm?” He hummed as he turned his head to look at her.

“Did you mean everything you said?” Emma asked quietly, looking down at her hands in her lap. “In the bedroom, did you mean everything you said?”

She heard shuffling as Killian walked over to her and kneeled onto the ground in front of her, appearing in her vision. His hands clasped over hers as he urged her to look up at him. “Emma, I meant every word I said and I always have. I’ve never lied to you about anything.”

“And yet I’ve been lying to you,” Emma whispered, her voice heavy as she looked at Killian. “Killian, I’m scared of leaving.”

“You’ll be safe, Emma,” Killian replied, his hands squeezing around hers. “I’ll keep you safe and I’ll make sure you and Graham go safely.”

Emma shook her head because that was not her fear about leaving. She just didn’t want to leave _him_ behind. He was able to become the man he used to be because he had been helping her, but when she left, she didn’t know what he would do. She was afraid that he’d go back to relying on his anger to fight the rebels.

She wanted to bring him with her and to be able to keep him safe from this harsh country, one that had already damaged and nearly broken him.

“Killian, that’s not what I’m talking about,” Emma spoke, her voice hoarse. “When I leave, please don’t be angry.”

“I won’t,” Killian stated firmly. “I knew for the longest time that I couldn’t be angry forever, but I couldn’t remember who I was without that anger. Helping you just pushed me along. And I’ll remember that. I won’t go back to being that way. I promise, Emma.”

The alarm beeped loudly on Killian’s cell phone, telling them that it was time to wash Emma’s hair. He helped wash the dye out of Emma’s hair, sending the excess down the drain. When the water finally ran clear, Killian gave Emma a towel to dry off. He pointed to the cabinet under the sink, stating that Milah’s old hair dryer was still down there and that Emma could use it if she would like to. Emma nodded as Killian left the bathroom, allowing Emma a moment to herself as she looked at her new self in the mirror.

She did not even look like Emma anymore.

She looked like Ruth Swan, a twenty-five year old from Sauveur who left because of the rebel activity and moved to the south of France.

Emma sighed as she tugged the hair dryer out of the cabinet, plugging it in and beginning to dry her new hair. This was the first step toward her new life and deep down, Emma didn’t want to completely leave her old life behind. She had loved her time in the castle, even if she had despised her royal status more often than not. She had a loving family and friends.

She had Killian.

And she was going to lose him because she needed to leave.

Emma forced herself to stop thinking about it, to stop thinking about _him_. But it was difficult when the man was allowing her to stay in his house while Mr. Gold arranged her new identity. But it would be over soon. And once it was over, it would be easier to push Killian Jones out of her mind and forget about those blue eyes and that smile and how he helped this random woman that randomly tripped outside of his doorstep and has given her everything he could-

Emma turned off the hair dryer and looked at herself in the mirror again, arranging her new auburn hair over her shoulders. It draped long, over her breasts, and was a stark contrast against her pink sweater. But she looked…new, as if the world hadn’t ruined her life. When Emma was content with how her hair looked, she exited the bathroom, going back into the living room, where the three men sat stiffly.

“Are you nearly ready, Ms. Ruth Swan?” Mr. Gold asked as he stood from the couch, his hands tight on his cane as it assisted him in standing.

“Nearly,” Emma replied, walking over to the couch and grabbing the reading glasses she had stolen from the grocery store. She slid them on and stood beside the white wall behind the couch. “Now I’m ready.”

“Hold on for a second,” Killian spoke, standing up from his place in his chair and hurrying over to the hall closet, grabbing the pair of fake glasses Emma had worn out all those days ago. He walked back over to Emma after closing the closet door and handed them to her. “Here. Use these. They’re fake, from an old Halloween costume. Rather not have you lose your eyesight for a disguise.”

Emma nodded as she replaced the glasses, giving Killian the reading glasses with a smile.

“Ah yes, perfect,” Mr. Gold spoke, arranging the camera in front of him to take the picture. “That was for your passport. Now this one is for your new ID card.”

Emma smiled again for her picture and stepped away from the wall as Gold tucked his camera into his suit pocket. Graham and Gold walked toward the door, signaling that it was time for them to leave. Emma wanted to talk to Graham, to ask him about whether or not this was actually a good idea, but that would raise far too many suspicions on Gold’s part. She just had to hope that this was the best plan to get them out of the country.

“Give me two more weeks and your new identifications will be ready, Your Royal Highness,” Mr. Gold spoke from his place at the door. “Your friend here paid extra to have them swiftly done, so it should not be too much longer.”

“Mr. Gold,” Emma called out as Graham placed his hand on the doorknob. Mr. Gold turned back around, smirking in Emma’s direction. “I think you and I both know that ‘Your Royal Highness’ is a bit too formal nowadays, yeah?”

Mr. Gold nodded and a creepy smile spread on his face, sending a chill down Emma’s spine. “Of course, Ms. Swan. Now I must be going. Good day to you both.”

And with that, Graham and Gold left, leaving Killian and Emma alone again in the house. She turned around as soon as the door shut and sighed. “I really do not like that man.”

<> 

Over the next two weeks, Emma began to learn more about Killian’s past, while Graham continued to keep a close eye on Mr. Gold. When they sat together and watched the news, sipping on their hot chocolates, Killian told her about how it had been a holiday tradition with his mother and brother to sit in front of the fireplace at the home he grew up in and drink hot chocolate and talk about the past year.

When Killian got a cold and stayed home from work for a day, he told Emma his mother’s recipe for chicken noodle soup, which she had always given him whenever he was sick as a child.

And when they were both barely awake, lying together in his bed (completely platonically of course, because Emma wouldn’t allow herself to think of it as any other way), he told her that her eyes were like his mother’s.

The day after that revelation, Killian revealed that his mother had died when he was just beginning his time in the Navy. She had been sick for years, a cancer racking through her body and leaving it a shell of what it used to be. He wasn’t able to be there when she passed, stuck at sea while Liam was by her side. The guilt of it consumed him for a long time, even when Liam told Killian that she had forgiven him for not being there.

And now, as they sit together on the bed with a photo album placed in between them, Killian told the stories of the pictures in the album, trying to distract Emma from the complicated life she now had. He flipped the page and there, a formal family photo was glued. Killian must’ve been about six in the photo, with a goofy smile and hair sticking up everywhere. Liam sat beside him, sitting straight and trying to look as regal as a sixteen year old could look. Emma smiled as she saw a beautiful woman, with curly raven black hair to her shoulders and bright blue eyes. And then a man beside her, with a smile that was not nearly as bright as the others.

“That’s your father,” Emma spoke. She could see the similarities between the man and Killian: his jawline and nose were practically identical.

Killian sighed as he nodded. “Aye. A pathetic excuse of a man. He left only a month after this photo was taken, running off with the neighbor’s wife.”

“How cliché,” Emma murmured, trying to lighten the mood as she gently shoved Killian’s shoulder with her own.

Killian laughed under his breath. “That’s exactly what my mother said actually. She knew it had been a long time coming. I was too young to understand and Liam was already a ball of teenage angst, so he took it the hardest.”

Emma laughed because _ball of teenage angst_. She understood how that felt. Actually, she could imagine Killian being quite the same way, given his knack for brooding.

Killian turned the page and there was a picture of the two of them, arms around each other in their Navy uniforms. Killian looked so young and naïve, before the pain of the world had caught up to him. Liam was looking down at Killian with a smile, looking every much the part of a proud older brother.

“That was the day I was being shipped off for a year-long deployment,” Killian explained. “Liam had snuck out of his duties to see me off. Milah orchestrated the entire thing, of course, knowing how much I wanted to see him before I left.”

They flipped through a few more pages, pausing on particularly happy and cute pictures. Emma flipped to one of the last few pages of the album, Killian’s hand on her wrist causing her to stop on the page. It was Killian and Liam again, arms around each other as they had been in most of the photos, but they were both obviously older. Killian was in the same outfit as he wore in the wedding photo he had shown Emma and Liam had aged gracefully, with only a few gray hairs on his curly brown head.

“This was the last time we saw each other,” Killian whispered, his hand still on Emma’s wrist. “It was only a few weeks later that he was out at sea and there was a storm. His boat sunk and he had been lost at sea. I had to bury him in an empty coffin.”

Emma twisted her hand in Killian’s grip and weaved her fingers through his, rubbing her thumb along the back of his hand. He had lost everyone he had ever loved and he was risking his own life by helping her and Graham. Emma understood his pain, knowing how it felt to have everyone you ever loved and cared for just ripped from your life by tragedy.

“He would’ve been proud of me for helping you,” Killian spoke, turning his head to look Emma in the eyes in the slowly darkening room. “He always said that we had to do everything in our power to protect the crown.”

“And I can’t thank you enough for that,” Emma replied, her eyes beginning to adjust to the late evening light. “I don’t think I’d be alive if you hadn’t found me.”

Killian opened his mouth to say something, but he furrowed his eyebrows, turning his head toward the door to the bedroom. He released Emma’s hand and slowly stood out of bed, staring at the door. Emma stood out of bed too, uneasy from Killian’s strange behavior. She looked out the window of the bedroom, which overlooked the small backyard of the home. It was gently raining. Nothing seemed out of place. It was just quiet.

“Do you hear that?” Killian asked, his voice quiet and his stance tense.

“No. There’s nothing,” Emma replied just as quietly.

“Exactly. It’s too quiet. Something isn’t right,” Killian stated and just then, there it was.

A _very_ loud crash. And it came from the main room of the house as the front door had been kicked down.

Killian twisted around and pointed to the closet door hurriedly. They rushed over to the closet door and Killian immediately pushed through the clothes, getting to the side wall of the closet and pulled away a piece of the wall. Emma was too frightened to question him at the moment, just following his directions as he ushered her past the hole and inside of the wall.

It was beyond a tight squeeze, making Emma feel as though she would become stuck within the walls of the house. But Emma quickly and quietly moved further into the wall, turning a very tight corner to move further behind the closet. She heard Killian fixing the panel, making it look as though it had never been loosened. Her heart was in her throat as Killian appeared around the corner, meeting eyes as a ruckus filled the house.

The rebels were inside.

“Kill-”

Killian held a finger up to his lips, signaling for her to be quiet as he moved to stand in front of her, the tight squeeze causing their bodies to stand completely pressed together. Emma would’ve been embarrassed by the closeness of their bodies, but she was slightly distracted by the sound of the rebels ransacking Killian’s home. She looked up into his eyes and she could see how tense he was, listening to them ruin everything he had accumulated over the years and everything he had with Milah.

Emma tightened her hands around Killian’s shirt, as if she was trying to keep him close to her. Her breathing began to shake as tears began to build behind her eyes. Killian saw the fear in Emma’s eyes and wrapped his arms around her neck, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss to the side of her head. They could hear the rebels rummaging around the bedroom now and they were _so close_. Emma was afraid that one wrong breath would alert them to their position, so Emma tried to breathe slowly and quietly, muffling the sound against Killian’s shoulder.

“Where the hell are they?” A rebel asked angrily from the bedroom and there was a sound of something screeching, as if the bed had been kicked and it screeched against the hardwood flooring. “The tip said they were here, right now.”

“Tips aren’t always right, William,” Another rebel replied. “Come on. We’ll keep a look out for anybody coming in or out.”

“I swear, once I get my hands on that princess and her little boy toy, I’m gonna make him watch while I make a woman outta her,” William rasped out, which triggered laughter among the rebels as they slowly moved out of the house.

Emma shook in Killian’s arms, not wanting to move even after she heard the last of the rebels exit the house. She had to get out of Sauveur. She would be killed if she stayed any longer and even _worse_ and she didn’t even care about the identifications anymore. She just needed to _leave_ and she’d take Killian with her because he was in danger now because of her and why did she have to ruin his life? Why did she have to fall in front of his door step and completely change his life? Why-

“Emma,” Killian spoke, his hands cupping her cheeks as he pulled her back to look up at him. “Emma, you’re safe. You’re with me and I will not let anything to happen to you.”

“Killian, they were looking for you too,” Emma spoke, her voice shaking and she felt as though the walls were closing in on her. “You’re in danger too and it’s my fault-”

“I chose to help you, Emma, and that means I have accepted the consequences,” Killian replied, his thumbs swiping away Emma’s tears. “I think they’re gone now, so let’s get out of here.”

Killian took Emma’s hand as he slowly pulled her back toward the panel in the wall, pushing at it until it finally gave and he stepped out. Emma felt as though she was finally able to breathe as she stepped out of the wall, looking around the bedroom at the destruction the rebels had caused.

The bed was askew, as if William had indeed kicked it, and everything had been tossed around. The blankets and pillows were on the floor and Emma was afraid to see the rest of the home, guilt settling into her bones at the sight of Killian’s house. She didn’t get a chance to look out at the main area of the house, Killian pulling her back into his arms and dropping his head onto her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Emma spoke quietly into his shoulder.

“We need to get you out of here,” Killian spoke, his arms tight around Emma’s shoulders. “At least until the passports are ready.”

“But what about after I leave, Killian?” Emma asked, pulling back slightly to look up into his eyes. “Where are you going to live? You can’t come back here. The rebels-they’re looking for you and this is the first place they’d come to. They’ve _already_ come to it. Where are you going to go?”

“Don’t worry about me, love,” Killian replied with a small smile, his hands moving to cup her cheeks. “I’m quite the survivor. I’ll figure things out.”

“But your home-”

“I’d give it all up again to help you, Emma,” Killian spoke in a hushed tone and her heart leapt to her throat.

Emma wanted to say something, to just fucking tell him that she felt something for him. But no; it was not the time nor place. It was only a matter of time (maybe only days) until she had to leave with Graham and would most likely never see Killian Jones again. No, she couldn’t break his heart like that. She couldn’t ruin his life more than she already had.

(She already hated herself for having to hurt him by leaving.)

Suddenly, a cell phone began ringing in the quiet house. Killian hastily grabbed his phone from his back pocket, hoping that the rebels were far enough away that they didn’t hear the phone go off. Killian’s hand fell to her waist as Killian answered his phone, sending a pleasant shiver up Emma’s spine.

“Hello?...They’re done?” Killian asked on the phone, his eyes meeting Emma’s. “Tonight? I think that’s the best plan. The rebels decided to pay a visit…yes, yes, we’re both fine. We hid in a hole in the wall I made during the first of the attacks years ago. They may still be around, so we’ll have to use the window in the bedroom to get out…an hour?...no, the sooner the better. They’re looking for the two of us. I don’t think you’ll raise suspicions much…will do.”

Killian pressed the screen to end the call and sighed, brushing Emma’s cheek. “The passports are done. We move tonight.”

<> 

After that call, everything became a blur.

Killian collected Milah’s old clothes and stuffed them into an old knapsack for Emma to carry. They both avoided venturing out into the main room of the home, in case there were rebels stationed outside of the house. Emma slid on the fake glasses that she had grown accustomed to wearing over the past two weeks and brushed her auburn hair out, allowing it to hang long down her back and over her breasts. She shrugged on an old winter coat, as snow was slowly beginning to fall from the sky, and Emma could hardly recognize herself in the mirror.

But this was her new life and she would have to get used to it.

She stepped out of the master bathroom and saw Killian packing his own things because he could not return to this home after Emma and Graham left. He would have to find a new place to stay as the rebels would stake out his house for any sign of people inside of it. Guilt pushed its way into her heart again, wishing that there had been another way.

She didn’t want Killian to get caught in the crossfire. That had been the very opposite of what she wanted and now, he was practically a fugitive. And it wasn’t as though he could leave with her and Graham (even though Emma still wanted him to come with her with every fiber of her being). He would be stuck in Sauveur with no home and the rebels looking for him.

(She wanted to keep him safe, but instead put him in even more danger.)

Emma bent and picked the photo album up from the floor, the very one they had been looking through before everything had suddenly changed. She walked over to where he stood by his bed, shoving clothes into his own bag.

“Don’t forget this,” Emma whispered, handing the album to him. He took the album into his hands, staring at the leather book and running his hands along the golden decorations along the edge. And suddenly, Killian gave the book back to Emma and Emma furrowed her eyebrows as she looked up at him. “Why?”

“Something to remember me by,” Killian whispered and her heart broke because _she didn’t want to leave him behind_.

She felt the tears building as she stepped closer to him, just needing this fucking moment before she left and would never see him again. She placed the book on the bed, beside where her own knapsack rested, and fisted her hands in the fabric of his shirt. His hands instinctively went to cup her cheeks, angling her head up and Emma was being fucking stupid, thinking that withholding those words she wanted to say so badly would keep him from hurting in the end.

Because as she looked into his eyes, Emma could see that he was already in pain.

Emma moved forward just an inch, her eyes slowly shutting and she wanted to remain in this moment forever, wanting to forget about the hell going on just outside their front door. She wanted to forget that she was the princess and that the rebels wanted her dead. She wanted to forget that _she would be leaving him_.

But just before her lips could touch his, there was a _ding_ on the window as rock had been thrown against it. She heard Killian sigh and mumble _of fucking course_ under his breath as he stepped back, walking around Emma and going to the window. Emma opened her eyes back up and everything slammed back into her.

They had to leave.

“Graham’s here,” Killian spoke, his voice not giving anything away.

Emma grabbed her knapsack, shoving the album into the bag, and swung it onto her back. She then grabbed Killian’s to hand it to him as she stood beside him at the window, looking down to see Graham standing in the wet grass. It was a long way down, as there was an apartment residing beneath Killian’s home. Emma felt her heart pound because she never had been a fan of heights.

“I won’t let you get hurt, alright?” Killian spoke and Emma nodded wordlessly. He opened the window and it creaked loudly. He tossed his bag down to Graham, who caught it perfectly. Killian looked back at Emma and his hand squeezed hers. “I’m going to drop you down to Graham, alright? And I’ll be right behind you.”

Emma nodded again, her throat tight with anxiety as Killian helped her up to the windowsill. Graham stood with his arms open, prepared to catch her, and he nodded. And with that, Emma fell down the ten feet to Graham, her feet impacting into the grass as Graham grabbed her waist as she fell. She let out a breath Emma didn’t know she had been holding and she looked up at Killian, who was preparing to jump.

And there was suddenly a shot that rang into the air.

Killian fell from his window and grabbed his bag from the ground, yelling “Go!” into the cold night air. The three of them ran as fast as they could through the yard, navigating through a narrow pathway to the main road as another shot rang out. Emma looked over her shoulder and saw the rebels standing in the window of Killian’s house, waving their guns erratically.

The three of them emerged onto the main road, watching people hurry back to their homes or into a shop as they all heard the shots. They ran across the street, dodging cars that were speeding their ways home, and found a small alley to hide in for a moment.

As they all gathered their breaths, Graham handed Killian a pistol that he had been hiding in his bag. “In case we encounter any more rebels, which I’m sure we will.”

“Where’s mine then?” Emma asked, trying to take deep breaths.

“If we encounter any more, just get behind us, alright?” Graham replied and he knew Emma would be displeased by the answer. “Look, I couldn’t get another one. I had to pay a friend for that one and the one I have is the one I’ve had since I first became a guard. If we come across one, by all means grab it. But until then, you get behind us.”

Emma grumbled out a “fine” as Graham took the lead through the alley, coming out the other end onto another main road. It was relatively empty on this road, probably since most people were probably hiding in stores and shops after the gunshots. They ran quickly down the road, looking for another alley to cut through to find the next road. Emma assumed Graham would want to avoid the largest road, which cut right through the capital, as there were probably a decent amount of rebels stationed there.

“Gold said there would be a car to pick us up at the corner of Queen Snow Way and Arrow Bend,” Graham rasped out, his breathing heavy from running.

“Are you fucking insane? Those are the busiest roads,” Killian stated just as Emma was thinking. “Does he want us dead?”

“Well I’m inclined to believe him as he gave us exactly what we needed to get out,” Graham replied, cutting through another alley.

They cut through numerous more alleyways, finding their ways closer and closer to the center of the capital. The airport was on the west side of the city, so they were indeed heading in the correct direction to get out of the country. But Emma’s stomach was churning; she felt as though something wasn’t right. And every time she glanced over at Killian as they ran, she knew he felt uneasy about it too.

It didn’t take them long to navigate their way to the center of the capital, ducking into alleyways to avoid passing rebels. Killian tugged his hood up from his sweatshirt, hoping to hide his face since rebels were looking for both him and Emma. And Emma hoped that her disguise made her look completely ordinary and not at all like Princess Emma. As they cut through their final alleyway, Emma noticed something.

It was quiet in the capital.

Far too quiet to be normal, especially for a Saturday night.

Emma could tell that Killian was thinking the exact same thing, especially as they stood on the street and waited for a car that Emma was sure was never coming. Emma looked around at the tall buildings and the wide sidewalks. Absolutely _no one_ was there. There were no couples holiday shopping and no families laughing as they walked through and gazed at the Christmas decorations.

Something indeed was not right.

“The car should be here,” Graham stated, as though he was trying to convince himself. “Why isn’t the car here?”

“Graham, what exactly did you tell Gold?” Killian asked, his voice raspy from running.

“I only told him that we were leaving soon. I didn’t say when-”

“Did he hear you talk to me?” Killian asked firmly, uneasiness settling in his bones.

“No. I was down the block,” Graham replied and then his eyes narrowed as he recalled details. “I was passing by rebels then, when I told you to be ready in an hour. There were rebels and they could’ve heard.” Graham turned to Emma and Killian, fishing the gun from the back of his waistband and grabbing her new identification. He forced them into Emma’s hands, looking her in the eyes. “You need to go. Both of you, before they get here.”

“Graham-”

“Princess, _please_ ,” Graham pleaded and Emma’s heart began shaking. “It is my job to protect the crown and it is through my own fault that this is happening. You both need to leave and head straight to the airport. I didn’t think he would betray us like this-”

And another shot rang through the night, piercing Graham through the chest.

Emma screamed as Killian grabbed her arm, running down the street as gunshots surrounded them. They ran as fast as they could, weaving around parked cars and light posts and just hoping that the rebels couldn’t find a good enough shot on either of them. Emma cried as they ran, ducking into an alley that led them further west of the capital.

She had watched the man who had protected her die in front of her eyes, betrayed by the man who was supposed to help them get out of the country.

“Emma. Emma!” Killian said urgently, his hands on her shoulders. “Emma, we need to keep moving!”

Emma didn’t even realize that she had stopped running in the alley, listening to the yells of the rebels as they cheered for their kill ( _Graham was dead_ ). But then she heard Gold’s voice speak up, shouting to them that the Princess and “her _puppy_ ” had run away and “ _why are you all standing there go do something!_ ” With that, Emma took Killian’s hand and they began running again, weaving through piles of trash in the alley.

They weaved through the city blocks, ducking into numerous alleyways and not leaving any time for them to catch their breaths. As they moved further west, the streets grew more crowded, which Killian and Emma saw as a good sign. They were able to camouflage themselves amongst the crowds of the civilians, knowing that Gold wouldn’t risk harming citizens to get to them.

Or so they had thought.

As they began to walk among the people of Sauveur, shots began ringing out, sending people into frenzies as they ran into shops and into cars. Killian and Emma found an alley and ducked inside, pressing themselves against the wall while the rebels walked around outside. Killian took the gun from his waistband and cocked it, slowly looking around the corner to see where the rebels were. It was then that Emma noticed that Killian had a wound on his right arm, by his shoulder.

“What happened to your arm?” Emma asked urgently, wanting to reach out and heal him.

“I got grazed by that bullet when I jumped out of the window,” Killian replied. “Don’t worry about me, love. I can take a flesh wound or two.” Killian eyed Emma and she could nearly feel herself blush. “Have you been hurt?”

Emma waved to her calf and to her side, where bullets had grazed her when they ran after Graham had been murdered. “Gotta say that they hurt less than being stabbed, so I’m fine.”

“Do you shoot well?” Killian asked, holding the gun down in front of him.

Emma shrugged. “I think I’m halfway decent.”

“Good, because we may have to shoot our way out of this hole,” Killian said, peaking around the corner and turning around to face the way the rebels were coming. He held his gun up in front of him, looking comfortable in the stance, and nodded to her. “You ready, love?”

Emma gulped back the knot in her throat and cocked her own gun ( _Graham’s gun_ ), moving to stand in the same position as Killian, but just in front of him. She peaked around the edge of the brick wall, noticing that there were at least more than five rebels walking toward them. She took a deep breath and focused on the anger she felt, having yet another person ripped from her. Emma peaked around the corner and with her gun, she shot of a round.

Hitting the rebel closest to them square in the chest.

Killian whistled lowly as they ducked into the alley as a burst of bullets appeared after the rebel went down. “I must say, you’re better than a decent shot, Emma.”

“My dad taught me a few things from his military days,” Emma replied easily, taking another breath as the shooting slowed to a stop.

Emma and Killian aimed again from around the wall, shooting the guns without hesitation at the incoming rebels. They began firing back and soon, they both ran out of their bullets while the rebels were still coming closer. Emma shoved the identification into her bag, but realized that maybe her time was coming to an end. They were both out of bullets and the rebels were still on their way to the alley. Killian looked over at Emma and she could tell that he was thinking the same thing.

That they were both dead.

But suddenly, there was loud honking from a car in the road. Killian turned to look at the car and must have recognized the person. Emma grabbed her bag without a word and ran with Killian to the car, trying to dodge the bullets of the rebels’ guns in the process. With them both ducked down in the backseat, the driver drove down the road quickly, the bullets becoming a sound in the distance.

“Holy shi-i-it,” The driver spoke, letting out a long breath. “Killian Jones, you owe me _so much_ for this.”

“I’m aware, Robin. Just get us to the bloody airport,” Killian replied, finally able to breathe easily. “And _try_ to avoid the main roads. I’d rather not encounter any more rebels.”

“Don’t need to tell me that. I’m gonna bill you for my car damage,” The man sighed out. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Emma, then looked back at the road. “Since Killian is being so rude, I’m Robin and I’m your knight in shining armor for the night. And also your pilot for your escape from this godforsaken country.”

“How did you know where to find us?” Emma asked curiously.

“Well, your boyfriend over here called in a favor about two weeks ago,” Robin began and Emma noticed the tips of Killian’s ears turning red. “He said that one, he needed a pilot to get certain people out of the country, and two, that he may possibly need a ride there. Now, I was a little hesitant because he was being a little cryptic, but he just said that it was a matter of life and death. So I agreed. And I had no idea he’d be escorting the fucking Princess of Sauveur, excuse my language miss.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Emma replied honestly, her hand finding Killian’s on the seat beside her. “You just saved our asses, so you can say anything you’d like.”

“I like you. She’s a keeper, Killian,” Robin spoke, eyeing Killian through the rearview mirror as the blush deepened on Killian’s ears. “Anyways, I heard the gunfire and I knew that this was probably your little message to me that it was go-time. So I followed the gunfire-genius, I know-and ta-da, I found you two. Now we just need to rush our asses to the airport before the rebels catch up with us.”

Emma turned to look at Killian. “You did this when we first met Gold?”

Killian nodded and Robin spoke up, “Wait, Gold is involved in this?”

“Yeah,” Emma replied, sitting forward in her seat. “He made the identifications for me to get out, along with my guard’s. But he betrayed us and Graham died and I don’t know why.”

“Probably because the whole rebel movement is his brainchild,” Robin muttered under his breath and Emma twisted to look at Killian’s shocked face. “I don’t know if it’s true, but I’ve heard things. Little mutterings about how he’s financing the entire thing and that the rebels follow his orders. My wife, Marian, wanted to expose him, but…she died in a bombing last year.”

With this new information, Emma grew furious. They had been tricked into trusting this man that her parents themselves had trusted, but it turned out that he had been playing for the opposite side all along. She could feel a fire igniting her veins and she wanted to _kill_ him. She wanted to make him suffer for the pain he had caused her and make him suffer even more.

“We’ll get him, Emma. I promise,” Killian spoke quietly, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. “I won’t rest until he pays for what he has done.”

Emma wiped away the tears she did not know had fallen, moving back in her seat and laying her head on Killian’s shoulder. She wanted to soak in his presence as much as she could before she had to leave. And even then, Emma was sure it wouldn’t be enough. She wanted him by her side as she learned a new country, but Emma knew it was not meant to happen.

(And she couldn’t stop a few extra tears from falling onto his shoulder.)

Robin navigated the weaving roads of the capital, quickly reaching the airport without any further interference from the rebels. Emma’s stomach twisted into a knot as she saw the tarmacs appear in the window. She was afraid of leaving of leaving Killian behind. The rebels were after him and she knew that he was no longer safe, even though she knew he could take care of himself.

But even with Emma’s fear of leaving Killian behind, they found their way to the small plane in the hangar. Emma’s hand tightened around Killian’s as Robin stepped into his small aircraft, noticing that it is much nicer than Emma had thought it would be. It was a small private jet, which probably held only a few seats inside. She wondered how he had come across this plane, but determined that it was probably better to not know.

“Um well, I have things to arrange inside,” Robin spoke as he stood on the steps, looking between Emma and Killian. “Take your time.”

Robin disappeared into the plane and Emma turned back to Killian, unable to look him in the eyes as tears gathered on her cheeks. They stood like this for a moment, just taking in each other’s presence. It wasn’t enough for Emma; she wanted more. She wanted to see him every day and feel him at her side for every moment. She had been refusing to allow herself to say the words, but at this point, there was no point to hiding it any longer, as she was staring it dead in the fucking face.

Emma was in love with Killian.

Emma finally willed herself to look up, her sniffling echoing throughout the hangar. But as soon as her eyes landed on Killian’s grief-stricken face, with red blotchy eyes, she couldn’t hold it in. She let out a sob and wrapped herself tightly around Killian. He didn’t waste a moment before reciprocating the hug, holding her close to him, as if it would kill him to let go.

She sobbed into his shoulder, unable to speak. It hurt her too much to acknowledge the fact that she was leaving, even if it was for her own safety. But she knew that she would constantly be worried for Killian, knowing that he was no longer safe and that it was all her fault. Emma heard Killian begin to cry and her heart broke even more because this man had experienced so much loss in his life and because of her, he was losing yet another person. He had taken her in and helped her heal, both physically and mentally. He had given her everything he could and then some more.

And it was killing her to leave him behind.

“Killian, I don’t want to go,” Emma spoke through her tears, burrowing her face into his neck.

“I know. I know, but you have to,” Killian replied, sniffling loudly. “You have to be safe.”

“But what about you?”

“I don’t matter, Emma. You have to leave to be safe,” Killian responded and Emma’s heart broke even more.

Emma pulled away and shook her head wildly, her auburn hair falling into her vision. “No. No, Killian, you matter _so much_. Please stay safe. Please. I don’t know what I would do if the rebels caught you.”

Killian cupped Emma’s cheeks and brushed away her tears, smiling toothlessly at her. “I’m a survivor, Emma. I’ll be fine.”

Emma’s jaw quivered as she lifted her hands to brush away Killian’s tears. She didn’t want him to experience any more pain in his life. A man this good deserved happiness and freedom and Emma wanted to be able to give that to him. But she did not know how.

All she knew was that this was her final moment to just take that leap of faith.

And so she did.

“Killian, I’m not a goodbye kiss kind of person, but I think I’ll make an exception,” Emma said and not a moment later, she finally- _finally_ -kissed Killian Jones.

And with how he gasped into her mouth and his fingers tangled themselves into her hair, Emma was able to trick herself into believing that this was exactly what he needed to remain happy without her. Because she knew that Killian Jones was in love with her and Emma needed him to be able to be happy without her at his side.

His lips eagerly sucked on Emma’s bottom lip and she gasped, fire igniting every part of her body-from her limbs, to her heart, to her soul. Her hands gripped on the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him as close as she could without becoming a single person. And if Emma could’ve done just that, bring him in so close that they become one, she would’ve done it. She wanted to experience this for the rest of her life and grow old knowing how Killian’s fingers felt weaved into her hair and how his lips felt so soft against hers and how he tasted like the sun on her tongue.

“Killian, I love you,” Emma rasped as she pulled away, her tears beginning to choke her. “I love you and I don’t want to go.”

Killian sighed and pressed a kiss to Emma’s forehead, saying in a heavy voice. “I love you, but that’s why you have to go. You have to be safe, Emma. Please. I need you to be safe.”

“But Killian-”

“Emma, I believe wholeheartedly that we will meet again,” Killian began, sniffling on his tears. “Whether it be a week or a month or a year or a decade from now, I _know_ we will meet again. Please, Emma. Be safe. I love you and I need you to be safe. You have to go.”

Emma nodded as Robin appeared in the airplane’s doorway. “We need to head out. Sounds like the rebels are heading this way.”

Emma pressed one last, insistent kiss to Killian’s lips, and finally pulling away only when Robin insisted that they had to leave. Emma looked at Killian as she pulled away, heart utterly _shattered_ at his heartbroken face, and she turned away to step up into the airplane.

“Killian, hide here until I come back,” Robin shouted down to Killian. “Roland will be happy to have Uncle Killian live with us.”

And with that and one last stare through the window, with Emma’s hand pressed against the window, Robin pulled out of the hangar and flew into the open air.

(“Keep him safe, Robin,” Emma pleaded with him as they stood in the airport near Toulouse, France, the weather sunny, as if it was mocking Emma’s pain. “Please.”

And Robin nodded, pressing a kiss to Emma’s forehead. “Of course, Princess.”)

<> 

**One year later**

_Ryan Gold, dead at 60 from natural causes_

Emma sighed as she reread the headline. “Natural causes,” her ass. He had only been in prison for a few months and knowing Mr. Gold, he wouldn’t have allowed Sauveur to hold up the death penalty, not with the contempt he felt toward the country. He would’ve wanted to die on his own time and by his own hand before Sauveur had that honor.

The bastard got off too easily.

She tucked her hair behind her ear, the auburn brighter as she had just retouched the dye the day before, and continued reading the article on her laptop as she sat at her small, circular dining table. Her coffee was resting beside her, the steam rising from the hot liquid. Today was one of the few days Emma had off from both of her jobs. Granny, her boss at the diner who insisted on being called that (Emma still didn’t know the woman’s real name), had given Emma the day off. Granny had said that Emma had been working too hard for too long and deserved a day off.

And Emma’s boss at the police station, where she was a receptionist, had agreed. The strapping man named Will decided that since she hadn’t had a day off in the six months she had worked there, Emma had deserved it.

So that’s how Emma came to sit at her dining table, reading about the death of the man that took everything from her.

She had followed every step of the trial, once Mr. Gold had been brought to justice. The media had reported that it was the work of anonymous citizens that had compiled enough evidence against Mr. Ryan Gold and was able to help the Ministry of Justice to arrest him and charge him with treason. But Emma knew that it was Killian and Robin who held to their word and made Mr. Gold pay for what he had done.

And her suspicions had been correct. During the course of the trial, Robin and Killian had announced that they, along with the help of the other citizens of Sauveur, had compiled the evidence. They had testified against Mr. Gold, describing the murders of Marian Hood and Graham Humbert as direct evidence to Mr. Gold’s treason.

Emma had cried that night after seeing Killian’s worn face on the television. He looked exactly as Emma had remembered, as she had dreamed. But there were lines around his eyes and his eyes looked _tired_ , as if the evidence had aged him ten years. But Emma was proud of him. He had done what he promised he would do. He had avenged Milah’s death. He had avenged the deaths of hundreds of citizens who had been lost over the course of the rebels’ attacks.

He had avenged her parents and Graham.

And when Mr. Gold had been found guilty and sentenced to death, Emma had cried again. She knew she should’ve been relieved and happy that the monster who had ruined her life would be killed for his crimes, but her parents and Graham were still gone. She was still alone in Toulouse, France, surrounded by strangers who saw her as Ruth Swan.

She still didn’t have Killian at her side.

Even though a year had passed, her love for Killian hadn’t wavered. She still loved him with every part of her soul. She loved him so much that she felt as though she would burst. But as the days passed, Emma worried more and more that she would never see Killian again. The trial had ended six months ago and every day since, Emma had waited for Killian to just walk in through her front door, stepping right into her flat as though he belonged there.

(Her heart broke every day that he wasn’t there.)

Emma sighed and sipped on her lukewarm coffee, reading that Mr. Gold was a relatively healthy man, other than a pronounced limp on his left leg from an injury he suffered when he was in his thirties and heart problems in his more recent days. There would be an autopsy to confirm the cause of his death, but until then, it was from natural causes.

There was a small paragraph at the bottom about the trial and the family he left behind in his quest for power, an ex-wife and a son who was now Emma’s age. They had both cut off all communication with him years ago apparently, when his want to run the largest company in Sauveur had devolved into want to run the entire country. The two of them had refused to approve of his crazed obsession with power and had left him, which had only triggered his downfall.

Emma wondered in the back of her mind if his ex-wife and son felt guilty over his crimes and she sincerely hoped they didn’t. Even if they hadn’t left him, she was sure Mr. Gold would’ve still started the uprising. A man who wanted power like that wouldn’t stop at anything until they found the power.

Emma closed the browser and shut her laptop, perching her feet on the chair beside her as she stared out the screen door in front of her, which looked onto her small balcony and overlooked the busy street below. The air was growing chilly and cold, a sign of the coming change in seasons. She loved living in France, away from the painful past in Sauveur, but she always felt as though she was missing something. It didn’t take Emma too long to realize what she was missing. Or _who_ , technically.

She wished Killian could join her here and live in the beauty that was Toulouse, France.

After Emma finished drinking her coffee, she stood from her place at her table and walked back through her living room. She cut through the entryway into her apartment and stepped into the kitchen, going to wash her mug in the large sink. She looked at the ghastly blue-colored cabinets and reminded herself that she really did need to paint those. It had been a year since she moved in and those cabinets still killed her eyes every time she walked into the kitchen. She didn’t know what the previous owner had been thinking when they painted those cabinets-

There was a gentle knocking at her door and Emma froze. After the rebels had invaded Killian’s house when they were there, Emma froze in fear every time someone knocked on her door. She knew she was safe and that the rebellion was over, but those memories always rose quickly and reminded her of how close to death she had been.

But she took a deep breath and rested her mug in the sink, walking back into the entryway and running a hand through her hair as she turned her doorknob to open the door. She wasn’t expecting anyone on her day off, especially since she had mostly kept to herself the entire time she had lived here-

And Killian was standing on the opposite side of her door, a small smile across his face.

Emma couldn’t speak, her voice stuck in her throat. Her eyes widened in surprise at his sudden reappearance. She had been waiting for this day ever since she left and had imagined what she would say when he came back for her. But now that he was in front of her, smiling patiently with his hands tucked into the pockets of his black peacoat, Emma couldn’t speak.

“Hi,” Killian spoke and she watched his throat bob with the force of a gulp.

Emma cleared her throat and ran her hands through her hair, now down to just past her waist. “H-Hi.”

“May I come in?” Killian asked and Emma nodded, moving to the side to allow him to step into the flat.

Killian stepped into the apartment, his boots clacking against the hardwood flooring of the entryway. He brushed past her, their arms barely touching but her heart still jumped at the small contact. She slowly took a deep breath as she shut the door and tugged her sweater over her hands, the very same sweater she wore the day that she left Sauveur and Killian behind, even with the rips from the grazed bullets.

(The one she would pull out on days that she missed Killian the most, trying to catch the last of his scent that weaved into the fabric.)

“How did you know where to find me?” Emma asked, crossing her arms over her chest and stepping close to the man she thought she’d never see again.

“Robin told me,” Killian replied, looking over at her and Emma’s throat knotted up because she had forgotten how blue his eyes were. “He overheard those government officials greeting you and telling you where they were putting you. I knew it had been a long shot that you’d still be here, but I thought I’d take the chance.”

Emma had so many more questions to ask, but she didn’t even know where to begin. Killian seemed to notice her uneasiness and smiled toothlessly at her. “Is there any way I could get a glass of water?”

“Oh yeah, of course,” Emma replied and waved to the couches in the living room, just through the French doors from the entryway. “Take a seat, if you’d like.”

Killian nodded and stepped through the doorway while Emma went into the kitchen just across the way. She took a glass from her cabinets and that’s when she noticed that her hands were shaking. She moved to stand in front of the sink, staring out the window in front of her, and began to take deep breaths. She had been waiting for this moment for a year, but now that it was there, Emma was afraid.

She was afraid that the rebels had returned.

She was afraid that enemies of the Crown had found her in France.

She was afraid that Killian no longer felt the same way about her.

Emma stood there until her hands did not shake as noticeably and finally filled the glass of water for Killian. She took a final deep breath as she walked out of the kitchen, her bare feet cold against the tile and hardwood flooring. She found some relief on the carpeting in the living room, gulping when she spotted Killian sitting on the sofa closest to the sliding doors to the balcony.

He was sitting in her exact spot, the one she always chose when she watched television.

“Here you go,” Emma spoke, handing Killian the glass as she walked around the sofa closest to the entryway. “Sorry it took so long. I had to find a clean glass for you.”

“It’s alright, love,” Killian replied and Emma’s heart jumped at the endearment. “The plane ride here was rather bumpy and it did nothing for my nerves.”

“Nervous flyer?”

Killian smiled as he sipped on the water. He nodded as he placed the glass onto the coffee table in front of him (gratefully onto a coaster). “I suppose you could say that. I suppose you could also say I was a little nervous to see you again.”

Emma’s heart grew heavy and she tried to keep her voice light when she asked, “Why’s that?”

Killian sighed and itched the back of his neck. “Well, that’s where it gets a bit complicated.”

Emma furrowed her eyebrows, her heart lightening a bit. “What the hell do you mean?”

“It has to do with Sauveur,” Killian replied and Emma sighed. “Mr. Gold was imprisoned-”

“But now he’s dead. I know,” Emma interrupted, crossing her legs on the couch as she faced Killian. “I followed the trial and I just read the news today.”

Killian nodded, looking down at the hand in his lap as his other hand was still in his pocket. “Well, when he was imprisoned and the rebellion was stopped, Parliament decided that they wanted to reinstate the monarchy.”

Emma’s heart leapt into her throat. They could not be asking what she thought they were asking. They fucking _wouldn’t_. “What?”

“And that’s why I’m here,” Killian whispered, sounding as though he was ashamed. “They wanted to send some government official to talk you into returning to Sauveur and talking your rightful place on the throne, but I argued with them. And since I had helped bring Gold down, I had some leeway with them. I wanted to come here because I wanted to give you the choice, Emma.”

“And if I say that I don’t want to go back?” Emma whispered, her voice thick with anger.

“Then they’re going to talk with your cousins, the Arendelles,” Killian replied. “If you don’t want to go back, you don’t have to, Emma. You can stay in France and live out your life as Ruth Swan. Choose for yourself, Emma.”

Emma was split. A part of her wanted to return to Sauveur, to where her parents had ruled and where generations of her family had lived. That land was in her blood, but the blood of her family had literally been spilt on that land. Returning to Sauveur would cause all of those memories to return from where she had repressed them over the past year. She couldn’t go back, knowing that her parents had been betrayed and murdered right in that castle.

But Emma also didn’t have much keeping her in Toulouse. She just lived day by day, not making any friends and doing nothing particularly memorable. If she went back to Sauveur, she’d have her old friends back. She’d have Killian again at her side. But even the thoughts of them couldn’t persuade Emma to return to her homeland, where hundreds of citizens had been murdered by the rebels and her own parents had fallen victim to their quest for power.

_Blood on the marble flooring-_

_Her parents dead on the ground-_

Emma shook her head as tears fell onto her cheeks, standing from the couch as she wiped them away. “I can’t go back there. I’m sorry, but I can’t. I still have nightmares and I just can’t-”

“It’s alright, Emma,” Killian spoke as he stood from the couch, taking a step toward Emma. “You don’t have to go back. You can stay here if you want to. No one’s forcing you to go back. I understand.”

_Running, running, running-_

_“It really is too bad, princess. But, I think it is time you join your parents”-_

Emma couldn’t _breathe_ , her mind swimming in memories of her time after her parents’ murders. She couldn’t go back. No, no, no. No one would force her to go back there. She couldn’t face the country that betrayed her family.

“Emma, breathe,” Killian spoke gently, making exaggerated movements with his chest. “Just breathe. It’s alright. You don’t have to go back.”

“I just can’t go back there,” Emma squeaked out, her chest tight as she tried to breathe at a normal pace.

“That’s alright, Emma. You just need to breathe,” Killian replied, slowly placing his hands on Emma’s lower arms. “No one’s gonna make you go back there. You can stay right here.”

Emma nodded as more tears fell down her cheeks, trying to breathe evenly as she watched Killian’s chest rise and fall. Her chest began to slowly loosen, allowing herself the more positive memories of her time in Sauveur before she fled to here.

She remembered when she first saw Killian’s bright blue eyes, lying on his couch and slowly bleeding out.

She remembered that laugh as he cut her stitches out.

She remembered how he had revealed his entire past to her and taught her that the past could not be changed.

She remembered how he protected her from the rebels as they invaded his home.

She remembered that she loved him and he loved her just as much.

“You don’t have to go back. I’ll tell the Parliament that they need to find someone else,” Killian said, his thumb rubbing against the fabric of her sweater. “You can forget about Sauveur. You don’t have to worry about that God-forsaken country anymore.”

Emma dipped into Killian’s arms and pressed herself against him, her head against his chest. Killian hugged her back without a moment’s hesitation, his cheek pressed against her head. Emma reacquainted herself with his warmth and his scent, even if he was returning to Sauveur and she was to be left behind. She wanted to remember how he felt against her, even if it would be the last time she ever saw him, even if it led to her heart breaking yet again over the man life seemed to not want her with.

She supposed that she had too happy of a life before the deaths of her parents that life must keep kicking her when she was down.

Emma stepped back slowly, not wanting to leave his embrace, and dragged her hands down his arms to weave her fingers through his. Her fingers tangled within Killian’s right hand, but as she reached for his left, she noticed something glaringly missing. Emma looked down and right where Killian’s left hand should’ve been, there was nothing.

“Killian…” Emma said, trailing off as she looked back up at Killian’s self-loathing face.

“After Gold was convicted, a few of the rebels who weren’t too keen on abandoning the whole uprising paid me a visit on my way home from work,” Killian explained, his voice tight with anger. “Said that this was my punishment for helping the Crown.”

Emma’s eyes slowly shut because it was yet another thing caused by Emma’s existence in his life. She never wanted him to get hurt or get caught in the crossfire. But no matter what she did, Killian was in the middle of it and would always be.

“The rebels were caught, but I lost my hand,” Killian continued and sighed, causing Emma to open her eyes to look him in the face. She could see the hatred etched across his face and her hand grasped at the stump, not caring that there wasn’t a hand there anymore. He was still Killian and it didn’t matter to her that he had lost a hand. She still loved him.

“It was after that attack that I decided that I had to get out. I couldn’t face the country anymore. I had given everything to it and it has done nothing but ruin my life,” Killian spat out and Emma felt guilty, but understanding. She felt the same way toward Sauveur, but she wished she could’ve protected him from the pain. “The only good thing the country had brought me was you and you weren’t there anymore.”

Emma gulped as tears sprang to her eyes. “What are you saying, Killian?”

Killian smiled toothlessly, a little self-deprecating. “I’m leaving Sauveur. I was thinking I could come here, to Toulouse. But I can see that things are different.”

Emma shook her head wildly, stepping forward slightly. “Killian, _nothing’s_ changed. I still feel everything that I felt the day that I left. I’ve been _waiting_ for you for the past year and nothing’s different.”

“Emma, I am not a whole man-”

“That doesn’t matter to me, Killian. I just want here and that’s _all_ I want. That’s all I’ve wanted every moment I’ve been here because I’ve felt as though something has been missing this entire time and it’s always been that you weren’t here to share this with me. I’ve missed you so-”

Killian dipped down and kissed Emma, interrupting whatever she was going to continue saying. Emma’s hands moved up to his head and weaved into Killian’s hair, tugging him down as she sucked his lower lip into her mouth. He groaned and his arms wrapped around her waist, tugging Emma closer. Fire flowed through Emma’s veins, remembering just how it felt when they had first kissed in that hangar, fearing that they would never see each other again.

But now, everything was different because Emma knew that he was there and would be for the rest of her life.


End file.
